


Days Worth Of Memories

by CassNeeBlack



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Draco Malfoy, M/M, Time Travel, Time Turner (Harry Potter), Top Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:08:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28711005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassNeeBlack/pseuds/CassNeeBlack
Summary: Harry sat on the chair, leg bouncing and fingers twitching. He let out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through his hair again."I'm sorry, but you know the drill," the Auror sitting across from him said with an apologetic smile."I know, I know," Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, "just– just hurry up, please."The Auror nodded, "very well, then," she said, closing the folder containing his file and folding her arms over it, "let's start from the beginning, yeah? Tell me what happened, the morning when Draco Malfoy had gone missing."
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 1
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter 1

He was late.

Harry almost tripped on his own robes as he hastily made his way towards the lift. He huffed out a breath as its doors closed behind him and pointedly ignored the looks, he was receiving as the lift made its way down. He jumped out without waiting for the doors to open completely and rushed his way down the hall and towards his office, still feeling eyes boring a hole on the back of his head.

Honestly, people should just mind their own business. There was no need for them to gawk at him at every little misstep he did. Admittedly, it was not the first time he had come rushing through the Ministry like that. But the case he had been working on that week was taking a toll on his sleeping habits. And Harry couldn't possibly be blamed if he had overslept because of it. For a brief moment he wondered when was the last time he had a proper night sleep.

He slowed his pace, scanned the hallway and smoothed a hand down his robes. Then, with a final brush of his hand through his hair, he marched towards his desk, hoping everyone – mostly Robards – was too busy to realize he had been missing till now.

He stepped into his cubicle and took off his robes, shoulders relaxing at the avoided trouble. He was about to sit on his chair when someone cleared their throat, making Harry jump out of his skin.

"Seriously, mate?" Ron said as he poked his head into Harry's office, "I'm running out of excuses to tell Robards about why you’d be so persistent on never being on time lately."

Harry rubbed a hand over his face and pushed his crooked glasses back up his nose, "I'm sorry. I'll repay you, somehow. It is just– I have been so focused on this case, it's haunting my dreams as well, ugh. I hadn't had a wink of sleep this week."

Ron hummed, "yeah. Feels like we have been missing something," he said as he passed a cup of coffee to Harry.

Harry smiled and took it gratefully. He took a long sip from the cup and sagged back against his chair, the blissful liquid warmth pooling in his stomach.

* * *

Later that morning, Harry found himself hunched over a piece of parchment, as he scribbled down (once again) all details he knew about the case, when his door burst open, giving him quite the scare.

"Blimey, Malfoy, had you forgotten how to knock?" he growled, a frustrated groan stuck in his throat, when he notice how he had spilled ink all over his desk.

Harry reached for his wand, ready to cast a cleaning spell, but ended up squawking instead, when Malfoy all but caught him by the wrist and began dragging him out of his office. "I don't have time for this, Potter," the man had the audacity to groan in frustration when Harry tried to protest and pull himself free.

"What– Malfoy, you'd better let go of me, or I will–," Harry bit his tongue before he could finish. Malfoy had thrown such a look over his shoulder at him, that Harry had to stop and take a moment to process it. Never before, Harry had seen him so utterly _drained_. Something tugged at Harry's insides at the sight. Something was very, very wrong.

"I'll explain everything, but later," Malfoy said, as his steps grew urgent and he pushed on, further and further away from Harry's office. In matters of seconds, Harry found himself standing inside the lift, going who knows where, with Malfoy wiping his palms against the front of his trousers, before running a hand through his hair.

Harry knew he was staring at the man standing next to him, but he couldn't find the strength inside himself to stop. Gone were the sneer and that bloody pureblood mask. A mix of emotions showing now on Malfoy’s face, all at once. It was such an odd sight that Harry found himself shocked silent. The constant thought of _'what in bloody hell is going on?'_ playing in his head, like a broken record.

Whatever this was, it must be bloody serious.

And then, a ping slapped Harry back to reality. He blinked and Malfoy was pulling him again, the soft hum of _Department of Mystery'_ echoing behind him.

"Blimey, Harry, could you possibly be any slower?" Malfoy hissed out.

Harry stumbled and stared at the back of Malfoy’s head, because _what_?

Malfoy led them down the hall and took a sharp turn to push Harry into a room, seemingly to pick a door at random.

Harry spun on his feet, ready to glare at the other. He was so done with whatever this was. Harry had no time for Malfoy’s silly little games. Ron would kill him, if he found him missing from his office again. If Robards didn't do it first. Either Malfoy went straight to the point – like right in that _exact instant_ – or Harry was out of there. "Listen here, Malfoy. I don't know what exactly you're playing at but, frankly, I have no intention to take any part of it." he said, stabbing an accusing finger at the man, "so, you better get on with it."

Malfoy stared at his finger for a moment, then something inside him clicked, and his blank mask snapped back into place. "I can assure you, Potter, that I am not playing any game," he said, "I simply require your assistance for something. I'd do it myself, but, apparently, it reacts only to your sodding Saviour's magic," he drawled, "at least in positive ways, anyway," he added, with a grumble.

The last part was said in a mere whisper, and Harry was not sure if he was meant to hear that, so he just chose to ignore it instead, "What are you talking about, Malfoy?"

Malfoy nodded at something behind Harry, who glance over his shoulder and promptly blanched. Across from them, deep inside the room, a Time Turner sat atop a workbench and it was glowing bright and _angry_. Magic poured out of it in strong waves, and Harry could not explain how he had not noticed it the moment he stepped into the room. Heck, he guess he could have felt it even from the moment he had stepped out of the lift. "What have you done?" Harry all but demanded, pinning Malfoy with another accusing glare, "a _Time Turner_ , seriously?"

Malfoy glared back at him, "Oh, but of course, it must have been _me_. Because, all I do in my free time is mess up with unstable Time Turners and see if I can destroy time itself," he sneered. "In case you had not noticed, Potter, I am an Unspeakable. It is my job to study Time Turners. And, it has been for _years_."

Harry opened his mouth, ready to tell Malfoy, how he couldn't be that good at his job, given how the Time Turner seemed ready to blow up and take them all with it, but he was cut off when Malfoy caught him by the wrist and, before he could register it, he was being thrown out of the room as the door shut behind him.

He tried to spin back around, but the floor shook under his feet, and he stumbled to keep his balance. He squinted uncomfortably, head hurting and stomach clenching, as he tried to process the sudden silence that had his ears ringing. His breath hitched in his throat before he shouted, "Malfoy!" and slammed the door open with all his might. The room was smaller that Harry had initially thought, he realized. And yet, he still stepped into scan the room with growing panic. The room was empty, filled only with shattered glass, broken furniture and deafening silence.

Malfoy wasn't there. The Time Turner had exploded and taken him away.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry walked up the steps, smoothing the wrinkles down his robe with a sweaty hand. He breathed in a long strengthening breath and lifted his hand to finally knock at the door. 

The door opened, and Harry’s smile immediately brightened at the sight of the person now standing before him. “Hello! I wanted to ask, if you—…” he flinched, as the other all but slammed the door at his face. Harry stood there, shocked by the suddenness of the reaction. He blinked the surprise away and sniffed, staring at the door. Then, he turned and skipped his way down the steps _. Tomorrow. Tomorrow will go better._

* * *

“That’s everything?” the Auror asked once more, looking down at her papers.  
  
Harry sighed, slumping down his chair. He’d always hated this part of his job. No matter what role he played during the interrogation. “Yes,” he told the Auror again, “he came to my office. He dragged me to the Department Of Mystery and lead me into that room. We started arguing and the Time Turner exploded.”

Harry heard the Auror standing by the door snort at the mention of Harry’s argument with Malfoy, but he ignored him. Since the start, the man had done little to nothing to hide his annoyance for being assigned to Malfoy’s case. He’d gone as far as hinting that Harry may have done something to the blonde, saying _“you were the only one with him,”_ and, _“he was Malfoy.”_

Harry felt a weight settle heavily inside him. The Auror’s words echoed inside his mind and it filled him with rage and indignation. Because he was Harry Potter, the Saviour of all Wizarding World. The one who had stood in _defense_ of the Malfoys during their trial. Honestly. 

Luckily for Harry, the Auror sitting across from him knew how to be decent at her job and promptly ignored her colleague. Harry was glad to have her in charge of the questioning. He didn’t know what he would have done if it was the man interrogating him. 

“Alright, we’re done with the questioning, then. We’ll call you if we need anything else from you,” the woman said, “and please, if there’s anything else you think we should know, feel free to come to me,” she smiled as she stood and collected her things. 

"Yes, I know the drill," Harry huffed out a small laugh.

The Auror shrugged a shoulder, "I've got to sound professional, don't I?" she winked. With that, she bid Harry goodbye and they left. 

Harry slumped further down his chair, his muscles melting with relief. The Aurors disappeared out the door, and Harry was left alone in his office.

He opened his eyes, not remembering when they slipped shut, when he heard someone dropping on the now free seat across from him. Ron slid a small book over the desk and towards him, earning a questioning eyebrow from Harry, “we found this in the room where Malfoy disappeared.”

Harry sat up on his chair and frowned at the worn leather-binding of the book, “What is it?”

“We think it belonged to him. It looks like some kind of journal, where he kept all his findings about his research and such.”

“Research? Wait, why are you showing this to me?”

“Maybe there’s a connection with why Malfoy came to you for help.” Hermione said, entering the room as well, “or he would have never come to you in the first place.”

“As much as I hate to say it, ‘Mione might be right. Mate, Malfoy would choose torture over asking for your help.”

* * *

Harry sat at his table, glaring down at the small journal. He’d come back home around an hour ago and he'd sat there staring at the book ever since. 

His life had been going just fine just the day before. He enjoyed his job, even if the last case was killing his sleeping schedule. He loved his friends, even though they just left him a new headache to solve all on his own. 

Harry sighed and picked the small journal up. He turned it this way and that, not seeing anything special about it. It was clearly old, but it’s owner took great care of it. The binding was worn by the numerous times of being used and carried around. Yet, there wasn’t any visible tear or stain on it.

Harry bit on the inside of his cheek. Now that he gave himself time to really study the book, somehow, Harry felt liked he was overstepping some invisible line. It felt private, personal. Something Harry shouldn’t be even thinking about without its owner’s permission. 

Harry stroke a finger over the leather of the cover and let the curiosity take over. He’d have just a little peek. Not that the owner would notice. Harry had done a few scans on the small book and had found it clean of detecting or overall dangerous spells. Harry sat back against his chair and carefully flipped the journal open. 

  * _Jan 23_  
 _The research has been going as predicted. I had worked over the Time Turner for two weeks now and I had finally found the complete list of all materials that might have been used to create it, I think. I will have to go through all of them to check which of them may have been the one to cause such explosive reaction upon activation time._


  * _Jan 24_  
 _My experiments are going fairly uneventful. None of the materials I have worked on seem to have been the cause of the problem. I will keep on working on the list. There are over at least two dozen elements I still have to go through, before I can start from the start and double and triple check my results._


  * _Jan 25_  
 _I am at the final one third of the list. For now, no elements seemed to have had any unusual behavior._



His friends had been right, it seemed. The book was a detailed description of a researcher’s findings. Harry leaned back again pushing the journal away with a grimace. All he'd just read sounded too similar to the reports he'd been working on for the last week. His mind was not ready to jump back into desk work. Just the thought sent jolts of familiar pain down his back, cause by the hunched position he'd been for too many hours to be healthy. He stood, changed and went to sleep. Who cared if it was still five in the afternoon? Certainly not him. 


	3. Chapter 3

Harry left the Ministry with the same skip to his feet as the previous day. Though, this time, he took a moment to first head home and fix his appearance. It wouldn’t do to go around, knocking at people’s door in his Auror’s robes. Who knew what they’d think! Probably that he'd come to arrest them, or something. He’d forgotten the first time. Maybe, that was why he was not even given the chance to finish his sentence, he mused. 

He straightened his back, plastered his best smile on his face and raised his hand to knock at the door. He waited, rocking on the balls of his feet as he fidgeted. He went over the speech he prepared the day before — after his first failed attempt at socialization — and ran a nervous hand through his messy hair. Why did speaking to people make him feel so awkward?

The door opened, and he opened his mouth to speak, but the door was slammed shut before he could mutter a word. He scratched at the back of his head. _Alright… This will probably take some time..._

* * *

Harry stood by the door of the room, a small frown on his face. After the accident, Harry had been informed that that very room had been Malfoy’s office. He had never had any reason to access that particular floor in person, so he hadn’t been overly surprised at the revelation. Yet, the news had still changed his perspective as he stood there, scanning his surroundings.

Despite the disaster left by the Time Turner, the room had been easily returned to — what Harry supposed — was its initial tidiness. The office was bare of any sort of personal decoration. There wasn’t much around, actually. The room had a minimalistic design, bearing only a dark wooden desk with matching chair, a large enchanted window and a floor to ceiling cabinet that took up all the wall it stood against.

Harry stepped closer to the desk and scanned it. There was a single, large stain, burned into it by the Time Turner. No one had been able to spell it away. He brushed his fingers over it, feeling the rough mark contrasting with the shiny, clean wood of the desk. His fingers twitched, ready to wrap around his wand to try and spell the ugly texture off the smooth surface.

Harry moved his attention to the cabinet, it too made of wood and carrying stubborn, harsh reminders of the accident. When he pulled it open, he found it filled with books and reports, all carefully set in a clean looking order. Harry skimmed through the reports, unsure of how much he was authorized to see and read. This was the collection of an Unspeakable, after all. Secrecy was their strongest — if not only, Harry mused — rule.

He was about to close the cabinet and leave — he wasn’t even sure why he’d come in the first place. The Aurors assigned to the case must have gone over the office multiple times already — when a large set of folders made him pause. Harry flicked his wand, and the folder gracefully floated to the desk. _Illegal Defected Artifacts_ , it read.

Harry flipped the pages, careful not to let his eyes drift and end up reading too much. Because, first, he wasn’t looking forward to fill his head with strange, complicated wording. And, second, hadn’t come here to get in trouble with the Unspeakable, for knowing more than he should. And, _third_ , it wasn’t his business — or job — to know what all those reports contained, really. Yet, the title of the folders tugged something at his insides, and he was sure that—…

Harry stopped; eyes trained to the moving picture laying before him. It portrayed the last moments of an Auror mission, judging by the number of red robes moving about and spells being thrown. The picture ended with a mad-looking witch, sneering, before a Stupefy had thrown her to the floor. Harry remembered the mission perfectly well; he had been the one throwing the stunner at the witch the previous week.

Questions began swirling through his mind, as on why would Malfoy possibly have the reports of that particular mission. Until he noticed the list, written after the short description of said mission. Harry took the reports with him, sending the rest of the folder back to its place inside the cabinet. He had some additional reading to do.

* * *

Harry pushed aside whatever papers he had left on his desk, making room for the stack he’d brought with him from Malfoy’s office. He sat on the chair and immediately took out his quill and notes, before he began reading.

The folder contained the full collection of all Auror reports, made by Harry and his team, and of all the Unspeakable’s findings. But, that wasn’t what kept Harry’s full attention. The list, written in Malfoy’s neat calligraphy, contained many — very — familiar looking names Harry had scribbled down (over and over again) in the past week, as he worked in his latest, overcomplicated case.

Harry sat back, blinking slowly and feeling lost. It didn’t take a genius to figure out how Malfoy had been the mysterious Unspeakable, who had been helping Harry’s team these days. What Harry couldn’t understand, was just how come no one had thought to fill him up with that information. Did his team know about it? If so, why did they keep him in the dark? Or, was everyone else as clueless as he had been?

Harry dropped his gaze back to the list and pursed his lips. Well, he was already sitting at his desk, a stack of reports and notes spilled over it, he might as well start working again. With a long, suffering sigh, Harry stood from his chair and went to get himself a cup of tea. Somehow, he knew his day was about to become very, very long. 


	4. Chapter 4

“The Mistress had told Didi to not let Mr. Harry Potter in. Didi is a good elf so Didi will not let Harry Potter Sir in,” the little house elf told him one day. At first, Harry had opted to being direct about it, unleash his most charming and sympathetic smile and just say what he came for. Simple as that. But, clearly, his plan to go and just knock, asking to have a civilized talk, had quite a few holes in it. His strategy was failing miserably, and Harry had to come up with a better idea, before he ended up sulking and moping over his abysmal lack of social skills.

“Didi is sorry, but Didi was told to slam the door into Harry Potter’s face whenever Harry Potter knocks. Didi politely asks Harry Potter Sir to move his foot and stop blocking the door, so Didi can slam the door into his face.”

Harry Potter was a stubborn man — many knew this well — but, Didi was just being a good house elf and was only following orders. So, instead of pushing on, he smiled weakly at the little elf and stopped himself from dropping onto his knees and starting to _beg_ —… in his defense, he was growing quite desperate and his sleep-deprived brain was not helping with his emotional state of mind. He moved his foot away, with a defeated sigh, “could you at least tell her that all I came for is to _talk_. I just want to talk. The disappearance of her son—” Didi merely blinked at him before shutting the door, not letting him finish. _Too direct?_

He tried a few more times that week but Didi was still a good house elf.

* * *

Harry threw his head back and swallowed, relishing the feeling of the blissful liquid sliding down his throat. Nowadays, he found himself opting for Firewhiskey over tea, which was clearly just not strong enough for this anymore. They had caught him snooping around Malfoy’s office — he had decided to go back and see if he had missed something — and now he'd been assigned to Malfoy’s case. He couldn’t decide whether he was relieved to having one less problem to deal with, or frustrated, because… _because_.

This whole mess was such… a mess. Harry had worked on those insufferable reports for days, and nothing — _nothing_ — had turned out useful. From what Harry had gathered, Malfoy had worked on many of the artifacts Harry and his team brought back from their mission. Heavy, twisted magic swirled inside them, making it almost impossible for the Aurors to stand by them without feeling sick. Harry still remembered the _stench_ of it the moment they’d taken their first step in that warehouse. They’d worked fast, simply wanting nothing more than to get it all over with.

And, that was all he found. Harry left the reports on his desk before leaving to go home, feeling at a loss. He had been sure Malfoy had additional findings that could help him somehow. And, well, he _did_. He had pages and pages of discoveries Harry had never read about, since he had first started working on this particular case (were it not for the fact that Harry had just been given a new case to care about, he would have tiered the ministry down, because _really? Had no one dimmed they might have been useful?_ ). but, in none of Malfoy’s reports — unlike in his journal — he had mentioned a Time Turner. Not the one Harry had seen in his office, at least. Not the one who had blown up and shoved a new problem into Harry’s face without his permission. Why did his life always have to be so complicated?

Now, he sat on his couch, Malfoy’s journal in one hand and drink in the other. He opened the book and skimmed through the pages, thinking to read what caught his eye and leave all details for a later reread.

The first part, as he had already gathered, was a full — and the only — report regarding the Time Turner he had been working on (the one that took him away, Harry’s mind reminded him helpfully). Yet, it was the second part that had him pause. There were several empty pages that seemed — no, blank, not _empty_. Harry squinted at the spread before his eyes and, for a moment, pondered whether it was time for him to have his eyesight checked up. His eyes darted from a corner of the page to another and — _there!_ At first Harry had thought it to be just some kind of weird, decorative design, but then, the triangular shapes of black ink at all four corners of the spread shimmered. They were _moving_ , shifting ever so slightly, so subtly Harry had missed it all the previous times he’d glanced at those corners.

Now, with his full attention to the weird shapes, Harry watched as their ink moved, seemingly eager to spread itself through the blank pages. Hesitant, Harry reached over and ran a tentative finger onto the page, only to watch bewildered as the ink began following his touch. It was an odd — somewhat disturbing, somehow _fascinating_ — display to watch. Harry dragged his finger across the page, watching in wonder as the ink slithered its way out of its little corners, until it darted forward, making Harry snapped his hand away as if burned. He hissed as he felt a stabbing pain shoot up his digit as if something had just pierced his fingertip, the shock and pain that hit at the contact making him drop the journal.

When he picked the cursed book up again, cautious and wary, he had his wand clenched in his hand as he stuck his finger into his mouth to sooth the pain, _blimey_ , he hadn’t signed up for this. The moment he found the correct page again, Harry blinked and, for a second, he had to muse whether keeping the thing might take a toll on his own sanity, because the blank pages with black corners were no more, and, in their place, he found rows and rows of Malfoy’s elegant handwriting.

Harry waved his wand over the journal, murmuring all strongest detecting spells he knew, confusion and paranoia taking over his instincts. Minutes later, Harry found himself scratching the back of his head as he folded his legs under him. As the first time, the spells had detected no magical oddities over the journal, yet Harry couldn’t shake off the feeling that it held far more than what it showed. He was confident in the strength and precision of his spells, though, for a fleeting moment, he wondered if greater magic had been involved in the making of this mysterious book.

After making sure that the ink would not shift to sting (bite?) his fingers again without him knowing, Harry began reading through the new pages, bracing himself for the worst, for he didn’t know what to expect anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> This is still a first draft, I will fix things later on.


End file.
